Twisted Karma
by Andrea Sinisterra
Summary: AU, 1xR. Marrying André was like a dream come true. But when he changes, and Relena's dream turns into a nightmare, what are her choices? Someone dies, but who? This deals with non-consensual sex, infidelity, abuse, etc. Take rating seriously. On hiatus.
1. Prologue

**Twisted Karma**  
By Andrea Sinisterra  
Angst/Tragedy/Romance  
Rated R / NC-17  
_Standard Disclaimers Apply_

* * *

Author's Note: I know I shouldn't be starting another fic when I still have to finish a few others... But I got hooked on this idea, I just had to get it out.  
  
Special thanks to Caliborn who brainstormed with me, and also beta-read my fic. Cali, hon, you're **the** best.  
  
Warnings!: This story has a very dark theme; it deals with death, non-consensual sex, infidelity, abuse, though it WILL have -many- romantic moments. It is 1xR, after all.

* * *

_Her skin was magnificently translucent under the sharp, unforgiving lights; the cold, air conditioned atmosphere swept the warmth of her flesh away... not that there would have remained any. Just like the many others here, she had come to stay. A perpetual visitor, sleeping her nights away until some soul would take pity on her and take her away. So many faces in this room, so many lives and stories. __  
  
__He walked around the gurney, snapping latex gloves before fixing the crude, overhead lights. He tried to ignore the nametag, knowing that a name would make it more personal; knowing that a name would make him even more conscious of his cruel, cold job. __  
  
__Not for the first time in his 10 years of working in Sanq's Central Hospital Morgue, he wondered, as he reached for the sterilized scalpel, the life behind the nametag._

* * *

**Prologue**  
  
Twenty-six year old Relena Peacecraft was the envy of every woman. She was perfect: she was beautiful, successful and had married one of the most handsome, sought-out bachelors in the world. Put mildly, Relena Peacecraft had it all.  
  
But people often got the story disguised in a pageantry of silver and gold, blinding them to the truth beneath it. People often preferred to remain ignorant rather than face a reality that, quite frankly, was too appalling and pernicious to be believable. They didn't really care about her, only what she represented. She, Relena Peacecraft, was their key into a world of diamonds and gold: of cold smiles and hollow words... She was their ticket into a society they strove so hard to be a part of, and ironically, a life Relena secretly wanted an escape from.  
  
And she did escape, only not in the way she had wanted.  
  
The day she met André Aragón, a Spanish magnate who had come to Sanq seeking to expand his already successful empire of shipping ports for pharmaceutical drugs, she knew her life would change drastically. For the better, of course. A virginal mind is something sacred; it's unsullied, innocent- a wishing of happiness and blessings. She had married a man she knew she loved and trusted. She had married a man, who, by all means, was perfect.  
  
But under every wide smile, there's a cold sneer. She had learned that.

* * *

My grandmother used to tell me stories when I was a child; my favorite was the one that told the legend of Mark Anthony and Cleopatra's love. Perhaps I've always been a hopelessly romantic fool, but the idea of a forbidden love overcoming the greatest of odds sounds chivalrous and fascinating. Even if they did die in the end, they opted to end their own lives rather than to have to live the rest of their existence without each other. And in doing so, they rewrote destiny; they bargained with fate. Mark Anthony and Cleopatra confirmed the rules I believed in.  
  
I've always believed that things happen for a reason. I've always believed in destiny. I believe fate is a sketch of ourselves, of the decisions we make in life, and that according to our will, it can go either way. We create our own destinies, because destiny is just a sculpture we mold to our liking. So our lives, complicated as they seem, are just sketches of a sculpture forged by our will. This is my philosophy.  
  
But love tends to screw things up.  
  
It was an emotional rollercoaster since the very first night. It all happened so fast, as I entered, oblivious, to my Aunt Cornelia's house. A fund-raising ball for the oncology ward of Sanq's Central Hospital had lured the wealthiest and most successful businessmen from around the west and southern countries of Europe. I remember flinching as the head servant announced my name upon my entry; it always made me feel so self conscious when everyone within the vicinity would turn around and stare. I despised the hypocrisy of the people that moved around me. They gave away their money to a place they would never go to; only signing their checks in the hopes theirs would be the one with the highest sum, so they could get a special recognition. Recognition, not of their charitable souls, but recognition of their power and flowing monetary assets.  
  
Hypocrite assholes.  
  
Even if I accepted being a hypocrite myself, too. Perhaps not for the same reasons; I truly cared for the people our "charities" helped-- I just think there's no need to organize a ball and spend thousands of dollars on catering and arrangements, when we could have used that money to give to the hospital. But they all strove for publicity. And I was a lonely soul fighting for a lost cause.  
  
Among the attendees, I recognized several faces; my immediate family and other relatives, as well as some of my father and brother's business associates. There were also many of whom I didn't know: special guests who either had money, or were related in some way to the hospital. I spent more than half a night being shuffled from group to group, my Aunt Cornelia's hand firm on my elbow as she steered me left and right. By the time dinner was served, the buffet table a mile long, and the endless line of caterers on the ready, I knew I had to get away.  
  
The moment I collided with him and our eyes locked, Fate had written a new page.  
  
And it was fast. From that moment on, we became inseparable. For three months, we spent most of our waking hours, as well as our sleeping moments, with each other, languorously lying in each other's arms. André Aragón charmed his way into my life, he made me deliriously happy. He showed me passion and caring, he showed me the world through his eyes, taught me his perceptions of things, showed me his philosophy... Made me his wife.  
  
We married at the Almudena Cathedral in Madrid; the high towers and pillars of a neo-baroque style that took over a century in planning and construction were almost overwhelming. I was getting married to the man I loved, nothing could go wrong. I had felt at the top of the world. It was like being on a constant, never-ending high, where there was only happiness and that goofy smile you just couldn't detach from your lips.  
  
And when he proclaimed we would spend our honeymoon in Cyprus, I would have collapsed with excitement had he not chosen that moment to kiss me senseless. As I would later find out, the Commandaria vineyard in Cyprus- which is one of, if not the oldest, vineyards worldwide- was the same paradise Cleopatra had once fallen in love with. Mark Anthony then took possession of the island and gave it to his lover as a proclamation of his undying love.  
  
The Commandaria vineyard grows the endemic commandaria grape, which is a grape far larger and sweeter than the regular grapes. I've never tasted wine like that. Cyprus is also the birthplace of the goddess Aphrodite; Petra tou Romiou in Pathos was the place from where the Love Goddess rose from the seas into the mortal world, casting her spells of passion and potions for unrequited love.  
  
The few weeks we spent there were, truthfully, the best time I had during my marriage. It was like we had escaped the world and entered a new, magical one. It was just the two of us. André was different there... He used to be different.  
  
Sometimes I think he lied to me.  
  
During the first two years of our marriage, André would take me around the world with him on his business trips. I spent most of my time alone, waiting for him to return; when he did, he would be too tired to do anything else besides sleep. I tried to be understanding, but I knew I was being cast aside: I was no longer his top priority. I always thought that the moment I fell in love, it would be a lifetime deal. I dedicated my existence to my husband: I cherished and loved him. I had fallen in love with that person I had met at the ball, that person who was so spontaneous and loving. I fell in love with the man who listened to every word I said, who kissed me with unearthly passion, and who cradled me at night as if afraid I would run.  
  
But he got lost over the years; he no longer remembered me, no longer loved me. I knew that, he knew that. Perhaps we married too soon, perhaps what we thought was love was just mere passion. Perhaps I had mistaken lust for love. I was his prisoner. For the longest time, I yielded to him because I loved him— because I was afraid of him.

* * *

To be continued...Author's Note: There are a few things I want to clear out before I continue. I know this prologue was very confusing, especially the first part, but this was how I wanted to write it. The part in italics, was just an introduction, and is key to this story. This story sort of goes backwards, but once you start reading the next parts, you'll understand what I mean.  
  
I wrote this last part of the prologue in first person because I needed you all to understand Relena, how she felt about their meeting and marriage. I considered it could only be expressed in a first person mode. The rest of the story will be written in third person.  
  
I think that's it for now. I'm sorry if I confused you! If you still have some doubts, you can ask me about them, and I'll try to answer without giving the story away. I really hope you liked this prologue. !  
  
...And the first chapter is done. I'm waiting for Cali to send it back. ! 


	2. Chapter One

**Twisted Karma **  
By Andrea Sinisterra  
Angst/Tragedy/Romance  
Rated R / NC-17  
_Standard Disclaimers Apply _

* * *

Author's Note: Thank the early update to Morri, who is too pushy. Jeez. Special thanks to Caliborn for her incredible beta-services and to grumble-mumble Morri for her most amusing comments and honest opinion on this part. Thank you, hons!  
  
I know I posted this on the prologue, but I will post it again.  
  
Warnings!: This story has a very dark theme; it deals with death, non-consensual sex, infidelity, abuse, though it WILL have -many- romantic moments. It is 1xR, after all.

* * *

**Part 1**  
  
It was raining. She could see the buildings' outlines all around her, rising like tempestuous creatures in the gloom. The thunder lit the sky at intervals, striking a bright contrast to the darkness within her rooms. It was just another day in her life, where she would wake up to find her husband already gone, or in the midst of getting ready to depart. It was always a cold goodbye, as he kissed her forehead or her cheek, smiling faintly while he headed for the hotel's door, both knowing they wouldn't see each other's faces until nightfall, or even until the next morning.  
  
They had no roots, no home. They had lived their entire 9 years of marriage in hotel's suites, living in the luxurious confines that were so cold and hollow. She was tired of amenities and facilities she never used, tired of the same late night talk shows, and the same routine. It was never ending, never changing; and her husband was clueless. He had no idea.  
  
Relena had tried countless times to gouge him into accepting settlement. Wasn't it time to start a family? She was getting old, and whenever she broached the subject he would ignore her, drowning his head further into whatever newspaper, magazine or report he had in hand. She often wondered if inside that cold, handsome exterior still resided the man she had fallen in love with. During their rare Sunday mornings together, when they would sit at the restaurant, or have their breakfast brought up to their room, she would sit in silent contemplation, watching him. The years had done nothing to him; he was still as handsome and demanding as he was the day they met. During moments like these, as they sat together while he read the paper and she drank her coffee, she reminisced of those days of years back: the fun they had together, their dreams and hopes. How they would lay together every Sunday morning, lounging as they had breakfast in bed, spilling dreams and wishes of their future.  
  
She was a fool. Love doesn't last an eternity. Yet, she never expected theirs to die so soon.  
  
A flash of lightning snapped her back to reality. The evening had slowly died into the night. she walked around the rooms, turning lights on to bring some clarity to her thoughts. She had been pondering a lot lately. It was starting to give her migraines, and it was making her feel homesick.  
  
Relena smiled as she sat down at the writing desk and reached for the phone, dialing the long string of numbers, waiting to hear her mother's soft, warm voice. It had been a while since they'd spoken, but she felt her smile crash when the answering machine picked up instead. In no mood to leave a message, she hung up, and reached for the remote control to the TV set the suite boasted.  
  
And it was just as every other single night for the past 9 years. She had to struggle to remember where she was, no longer keeping track of the cities she had visited, whether they were in their itinerary or not. The same talk show, the same local programming. She always ended tuning into the local news network, staring blankly at the anchorwoman.  
  
Later that night, as André finally strolled into the hotel room, at well past 1 am, Relena knew he had done it again. She snuggled deeply into the covers, bringing the coverlet over her ears, fighting to keep her breathing pattern steady so as not to alert him of her state of wakefulness. She heard the clank of the buckle of his expensive Italian leather belt as it hit the chair where he probably must have tossed it along with his pants. He must have taken his shoes off as well, as she heard him walk on silent feet about the room. He had such an intoxicating presence; she had felt it the moment he had stepped into the room: the quarters shrunk at the size of his form.  
  
She could smell the perfume on his skin as he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her body; she could also smell the alcohol mixed in his breath as he moved her hair away and kissed her neck, the open mouthed kisses making her close her eyes. In despair or pleasure, she wasn't sure.  
  
"Happy birthday, love." He whispered into her ear, tickling his tongue against the outer shell, and then sucking her earlobe into his mouth. "I have a surprise for you."  
  
"You're late. My birthday ended two hours ago." There was no use in still pretending she was asleep; she could feel her temper rising, even knowing it would be useless against him. "You've been drinking-- what kind of surprise do you call that?"  
  
There was silence, and she unconsciously cringed at what his reaction would be. She wasn't disappointed. "What kind of an answer is that?" he snapped, grabbing her shoulder and turning her over so he could see her face. "Don't you have any respect?"  
  
Relena struggled out from under him, standing a fair distance away from the bed before she laughed contemptuously. "Respect?!" She reached for the silk robe hung over a chair, tying the belt loosely around her waist. "You're an unfaithful bastard. I don't want any surprises from you. I'd rather you leave me alone."  
  
He was up in a second, grabbing both her wrists in one of his large hands, covering her body with his against the wall. "Nine years and still feisty. Your mother did a very good job raising you." He bit the side of her neck, making her gasp before she started to struggle against him. "If I want to give you a surprise, I will give it to you, whether you like it or not." He used his free hand to untie the sash from around her waist, spreading apart the sides of her robe. "Didn't you miss me?" His lips softened on her skin, trailing a path of fire up her neck, cheek and then the side of her mouth.  
  
Relena jerked her head to the side, avoiding the contact of his lips on hers. "It's irrelevant. Why don't you go screw whatever whore you were with all night?"  
  
The weight of his opened hand landed on her right cheek with a burst of pain, leaving her numb, and before she could react, he had thrown her on the bed, yanking her underwear off as he finally came to settle between her legs. "You fucking little bitch." He smiled when she gasped in surprise as he started moving. "You're my wife, and you will do as I say. Got it?"  
  
She nodded silently, turning her head away to let her tears fall... even as he continued to move within her.  
  
It was all just part of the routine.

* * *

That very same day, the sun pouring its warmth into the room, Relena woke feeling sore and alone in bed. She started her day as usual, showering to get the filth off her skin, scrubbing herself ruthlessly as frustrated tears and sobs rocked her body.  
  
She dressed and covered the slight bruise on her cheek with heavy foundation and powder, then prodded her skin lightly with her finger, flinching as it pounded in protest. When she was done, the bruise partially covered, she left her room and headed for the restaurant, not too anxious to be having another meal by herself.  
  
As she sat alone at her table, a plate of fresh fruit and coffee before her, she unconsciously pulled at the collar of her turtleneck sweater, hiding the bruise his teeth had left on her skin, seconds before she felt a shadow over her.  
  
"Is everything alright?"  
  
It was just customary concern for her as a guest, and she found herself smiling at the waiter. "Yes, everything's quite alright. Thank you."  
  
But there was a wavering in her voice that did not go unnoticed, even if he didn't press the issue further. "Is there anything else you'd like to order?"  
  
Relena sipped her coffee, shaking her head as she wished fervently for the man to leave. "I'm fine." But just as he smiled and bowed slightly at the waist, ready to leave as she had originally wanted, his name plate caught her attention and she reached out, grabbing his wrist. "Trowa, that's your name?"  
  
Trowa frowned at her slightly. "Yes."  
  
Relena smiled, shifting uncomfortably on her seat as she realized she had no idea what to say.  
  
After a moment of silence, he bowed again, his eyes never leaving hers. "Have a good day."  
  
Relena stared at his retreating back, not quite sure what had just happened between them.  
  
When she was done, she retreated to her room, picking up the phone as she once again tried calling her mother. At the fifth ring, just as she was about to give up and put the phone back on the receiver, Margaret's voice picked up. Before she could help it, Relena broke down in a torrent of tears, gasping choked words of pain and despair. She hunched over the phone, running trembling fingers through her hair as she retold her sister of the night before.  
  
"Oh, Relena." There was honest pain in her sister's voice as she consoled her. "I'm so sorry. That bastard."  
  
They were both crying, and Relena's tears doubled as her sister begged her to come back home. "He doesn't deserve you, Relena! You've put up with his shit for years! Why do you still insist on staying?"  
  
Relena wiped at her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. "Because he's my husband, Margaret! I love him!"  
  
"Well, he has _such_ a pretty way of showing it." After a moment, Margaret sighed. "I'm sorry. He just makes me so mad."  
  
"I'm so lost, Marsh. So lost. I love him so much... I don't understand anything! And just last night, Marsh, on _my_ birthday, he comes back here, obviously from being in another woman's arms..."  
  
"He raped you, Relena!" Margaret's voice filled with anger again; she was hissing into the phone. "He raped you! And he cheated on you! You can't honestly sit there and tell me he loves you! Especially that you love him still! That's madness!"  
  
"He's my husband, Margaret. He's my husband."  
  
"Relena, you're afraid of him. That's no way to live. If he really loved you, he wouldn't do the things he does! He's killing you, Relena. And you're a masochist for putting up with him!"  
  
There was a deep silence that stretched for several seconds, before Margaret's sigh broke it. "I'm not sorry for saying that, sister. It's the truth."  
  
Relena's tears had subsided, but their tracks were still obvious on her skin. Her head jerked up at a sound. "I have to go, someone's at the door. Can you tell mom I called? And... thank you."  
  
Margaret's words rang loudly through Relena's head, and it was not the first time she had heard them. She knew her sister was right, she knew she had to leave him... But could she? She had no doubt André would follow her wherever she chose to run to... He would find her. She knew it in her heart.  
  
Seeing Trowa standing in the hall was not the sight she had been expecting, but neither was it unwelcome. "What are you doing here?" Perhaps he didn't notice, or maybe he chose not to mention it, but Relena was sure it was obvious that she had been crying. She could still feel her face wet from her tears.  
  
"I'm not sure. Can I come in?"  
  
She knew it wasn't wise to let him into her room, yet it was worse if some other guest saw him standing outside her door... She moved aside, and held the door wider in an open invitation.  
  
At first she didn't know what to say or do as they both stared at each other, so she kept herself busy by reaching into her purse to pull out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with an intricate, silver lighter.  
  
"I've never seen anyone with so much sadness in their eyes." He didn't smile, nor did he attempt to step closer to her; he just stood there, watching her. Studying her. "It's not the first time I've seen you by yourself."  
  
"Now you think you're an expert? I don't even know you." She said annoyed, standing by the large windows.  
  
"Perhaps. But you wanted me here. For what... I don't think you even know." He went to stand beside her, both admiring the busy city below. "A beautiful woman like you shouldn't be left alone... your husband surely doesn't know what he's doing."  
  
"You're very bold to come and tell me all these things." She said as she exhaled a long stream of smoke. Under her breath, she whispered, "Even if they are all true."  
  
Trowa sighed, then turned around, heading for the door. "I should get going. I don't know what I was thinking."  
  
"Wait." Relena turned around to look at him, a strange frown on her face. "We're leaving tonight."  
  
He came to stand in front of her, an arm's length away, but he didn't say a word. His eyes were intense, shadowed by the bangs of chocolate hair that fell across his forehead. He cocked his head to the side. "So beautiful, and yet so sad."  
  
The moment his large, warm hand touched her cheek, she felt her insides melt, trembling under his intense, forest green stare. Rising on her toes, she closed the distance between them, sealing her lips to his in an urgent display of passion. Her hands threaded through his hair, pressing his lips harder to hers, and she almost smiled when his mouth finally opened to her seeking tongue.  
  
Trowa's arms remained still at his sides by sheer force of will, knowing that if he dared touch her, he would lose it completely. The thought of her, married, was a constant in his head, and the sadness in her eyes, combined with the curve of her body and lips threatened to override every sense of rationality. Her tongue was heaven, silky and smooth as it slid on his; her fingers, slim and pale, were still strong and assured as they gripped his head... Yet, it was her tears, hot and few along his cheeks what made him stop.  
  
He gently pushed her, his hands large as they settled on her thin shoulders. "You don't have it in you to cheat." He put his hand on her cheek, and he smiled when she pressed her face into it. "When I saw you downstairs... There's something about you. It's not just beauty." Her blush charmed him to the heart. He shook his head. "I've seen you several times... but always by yourself. Your husband doesn't know what he's missing."  
  
Her lips thinned as she stepped away from him. "My husband doesn't love me. I'm sure..." Margaret's words rang through her head... She was a blind masochist. "I'm sure he doesn't even know me."  
  
Trowa looked at her, his eyes intent on hers; he didn't answer her statement. "Those bruises..." He shook his head, dismissing the thought of his own sister from his head. His beautiful sister... "Don't let those scars bring you down... Let them make you stronger."  
  
"What is it about you?" But her tone was bathed in curiosity and not contempt, intrigued by this man she had just met. "Why do you even care?"  
  
She was as innocent as Catherine had once been. Beautiful hearts. But Catherine had made the greatest mistake of all; marrying a man far older than her, a man she didn't know well... A man who had been her final end. Now, there was only a gravestone left of her, the last remnant of his only family. His sister had fallen in love with the wrong man, and had paid dearly for it.  
  
Trowa shook his head, clearing it from thoughts that were no longer of any use. "Women shouldn't be treated like this. I wouldn't want my mother, sister, or even a friend to be mistreated by some low-life loser." But his voice didn't carry the firm tenor he had wanted; instead it sounded too strong and lethal... He knew it when he saw her frown. "I should get going."  
  
Relena didn't feel it was any of her business, so she didn't press further. She saw him walk to her writing desk and write something down. When he handed her the little post-it, she smiled at it, winding her arms around him.  
  
"If you ever need someone to talk to."  
  
Relena nodded through fresh tears, and as he walked to the door and then closed it behind him, she felt like she had just lost a friend.  
  
Going to her room, she searched for her purse, hiding his phone number in one of the many pockets of her wallet, knowing that if André were to find it, he would probably kill her.

* * *

André came in early that night, but it was only because they had a plane to catch. She didn't ask where they were headed since it wouldn't make a difference. Only the scenery changed from trip to trip. Everything else was the same: the same luxury hotels, the same kind of people, and the same treatment from her husband.  
  
She walked on numb feet as they made their way through the airport, nodding and smiling whenever André would say something to her, fear in her heart that he could somehow find out about her meeting with Trowa.  
  
Her thoughts wandered to him; she had never met a person like him before, so intuitive and caring. She feared they would never meet again; she was constantly supervised, and if her husband were to find out about his wife meeting with strange men in their room, he would be capable of doing the most atrocious things... she had no doubt in her heart he would.  
  
André never mentioned the night of her birthday; it was as if it didn't happen. Neither did he hint at something related with Trowa. He talked nonstop about his meetings and plans, including the people they were to meet at a fund-raising ball sometime next month. He didn't even notice the gaps of time in-between his meetings... Time he probably spent with some whore.  
  
Relena seethed; he didn't even have the dignity to hide it from her. He was so nonchalant about it all, not even considering he would hurt his wife. She had affronted him about it for the first time that night, and he didn't deny it. What more proof did she need?  
  
She looked down at her attire, frowning in disgust;, with a pressed, dark grey blazer and skirt combo suit, the skirt just about her knees, and her hair pulled tight in a French twist, she was the demure, quiet wife André had picked and polished for himself. Yes, as frivolous as that may sound, that was exactly the way things were between them; he was the puppeteer in charge of his toys, the mastermind who told his peons how to act and what to wear.  
  
She was no better than any of the women he cheated on her with. She did whatever she was told to do, dressed as he wanted her to dress, said the proper things at the correct time whenever he would meet with colleagues, taking her with him to dinners so she could charm her way into their "hearts". André said she was naturally charming, and that was most beneficial to his negotiations. He even let his business partners and clients touch her, especially when they'd had more than a couple of drinks. He would call her whatever name he felt like, demeaning names his clients laughed at, names that tempted them, even welcomed them to touch her. Her knees, or arms, sometimes her hair or face, running their clumsy fingers along her skin while André watched...  
  
He always stopped them before things went too far... But not too soon to endanger his business plans.  
  
By the time she reached the plane and took her seat by the window, her head was already pounding with the force of her migraine. She closed her eyes to block the piercing light, fervently wishing to get some quality sleep before they reached Japan and her torture would begin anew.  
  
It was just routine.

* * *

To be continued...


	3. Chapter Two

**Twisted Karma**  
By Andrea Sinisterra  
Romance/Angst/Tragedy  
Rated R  
_Standard Disclaimers Apply_

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay. Here's chapter two, it's not too long 'cause I wanted to post something before February and I get even busier. Hope you like it.

Thanks to Caliborn for proof reading this for me. I heart you, chica!

I dedicate this chapter to Zoe and Lilac for being so special and supportive.

Warnings!: Strong theme. Violence, abuse, sex.

* * *

**Part 2**

It wasn't as cold as she had been expecting: instead it was mildly warm, the cold air mingling with the warmth of the sun. There was something so utterly fascinating about a city like Tokyo; the thousands of little stores, one after the other in an endless line along the streets, were colorful; and the people, the true Japanese, were welcoming and very charming.

A helicopter was waiting for them as they stepped down from the jet, the security crew, clad in their standard black suits, escorting them to their transport and then to the hotel. They were scheduled to remain in the city for two weeks at the most, Japan being a new market her husband's company was trying to delve into. He had said, as he always explained to her in patient words, that the competition there would be gigantic, as drug developers were a thousand a penny, especially in the far north of the island. There was no better place than Tokyo to study market values and the strategies Japanese developers used. He was thinking of settling business near the west coast, specifically on Sapporo and Hiroshima, bordering with the Sea of Japan, and further west with North and South Korea and Russia was the wisest option. The shipping ports would naturally be settled in Kobe and Osaka, where Japan's most important and distinguished marinas were located.

It was a great market, given that Japan surpassed 100 million inhabitants. Plus, it was one of the leading general markets worldwide. Before then, Pharmat, her husband's company, had settled in minor countries in Europe, South and Central America, and Australia, where costs and employment were cheaper and taxes weren't so high; now, however, as the demand was increasing and the company expanding, his advisors and market analyzers had decided Japan was the next step they should take.

Relena didn't think two weeks would be enough. There were a lot of things they had to do first, but she didn't doubt André would succeed. He was perseverant above all things. This was why she didn't protest when as soon as they reached the Park Hyatt Tokyo Hotel, he ditched her for a meeting he had programmed first thing when they landed on the large island.

She spent most of her time strolling around the city, indulging in the local delicacies and the magnificent diversity of cultural traditions and history the country and its people boasted. The several Shinto and Buddhist temples and shrines throughout the city mesmerized Relena as they rose up on hills or at lakes, shrouded by the nature and the reverent silence of their ancestries in which they so believed in.

Unluckily for her, almost at sunset, she found herself rushing to the hotel's suite, having had forgotten the utterly important gala to which her husband was one of the special guests. Her dress was brought up by a clerk, and along with him, a make-up artist and a hair dresser, both of which the hotel manager had insisted on sending to aid her.

When André barged into the room almost an hour later, his face tired and his muscles tense, Relena was almost done, being in the midst of stepping into the beautifully delicate, white lingerie silk and lace gown with the help of one of the Japanese women. Her stomach jumped as his eyes feasted on her partial nakedness, even as he dismissed the women and slowly walked behind his wife to help her into the dress. He trailed his hand from the base of her bare back up the ivory expanse of her naked skin to her neck, where it met the strap of her halter dress. Relena shivered at his caress, letting her head drop onto his shoulder when he reached to kiss the side of throat.

"You look exquisite." His voice was low, hoarse as it whispered across her flushed cheeks.

True to his male nature, he showered and dressed in half an hour and then, her hand on the crook of his elbow, headed into the Venetian Ballroom. The high, antique Italian crystal chandeliers and polished hardwood floors were luxurious on their own, and combined with the simple-yet-elegant gold and red linens and curtains, the room had the ability to transport the guest to the time where dukes, lords and ladies strolled in _motoscafos_ down the dark waters of Venice, indulging in the most tempting pleasures of life and the richest of wines.

There was a mild humming as the attendees talked in low tones, gathered in many influential but small groups throughout the room. And even if it was still early, as they had arrived 20 minutes before the hour, they could see that the Prime Minister of Japan and his wife were present, as well as many members of the _Shugi-in_ and _Sangi-in_, most of which André had met earlier that same day, who made up Japan's National High and Low Bureau of Councilors and Representatives to His Majesty, The Emperor.

Dinner consisted of an exquisite arrangement of cold entrées, like raw salmon with a touch of basil and garlic, followed by an elegant version of the popular _unagi donburi_, which was a national food consisting of grilled eel prepared in thick Soy-based sauce served on a bed of white rice. They were also served a wide arrangement of sushi and tempura, concluding in a delectable cream anmitsu, the likes of which she had never tasted before in her life.

Soon after dinner was finished, sake, gyokuro and green tea, along with champagne and a grand menu of pinot noir, chardonnay, merlot and cabernet sauvignon brands to those who preferred wines were served by the caterers who moved incessantly throughout the re-gathered groups.

Fervently wishing to extract herself from the group she was currently at, with her husband deeply submerged in conversation, Relena was suddenly snapped out of her reverie when another voice entered the chat and her husband called her name. Another man had joined their conversation, and from what she could see, taking in the familiarity with which her husband and he treated each other, she gathered that they were old acquaintances. She smiled cordially at him when he raised his glass of champagne, and she clinked her own glass of cabernet sauvignon with his before he reached for her hand.

"Darling," André drawled, his voice slightly slurring at the end of the word as she realized he had probably drunk over his limit, "Meet an old, good friend of mine from college. Relena, Heero Yuy; Heero, my beautiful wife, Relena."

"It's a pleasure."

She smiled, and before anyone could say another word, excused herself. "I'm afraid to say the night has caught up with me. I've had an unusually fast day."

Heero smiled. "I take it it's your first time in Japan."

He had not phrased it as a question, but she took it as such. "I've read a lot about it; I've always been intrigued by the difference between oriental and western cultures. So far, Japan has surpassed my expectations."

"I'm pleased to hear that. How long will you be staying?"

She was about to answer when André laughed and then reached to clap Heero on the back. "My friend, care to join me at the bar? There are a few things I would like to talk to you about."

Heero nodded. "It was a great pleasure finally meeting you, Relena. I hope this is not the last time we speak. I would like to know the final conclusion of this trip of yours."

Relena laughed, taking a last sip of her wine, yet still leaving a decent amount swirling at the bottom of the crystal. "It was a pleasure, likewise. Perhaps we could meet someday before we leave; I still haven't found someone who will show me the city informally."

"That's a shame, but I would be glad to show it to you both." He bent over her hand again, kissing it.

After that, she was left alone as both André and Heero said their goodbyes to the other guests and departed to the bar, which was a little away from the main salon.

She excused herself as well, doing her best to avoid the several gentlemen she guessed would probably stop her for a chat. She successfully made it to her room, and she took no delay in taking off her dress and washing her face before making her way to the bed, which had been laid down for the night.

She was, quite honestly, tired, but still her mind wandered back to the night's outcome, which amazingly enough had been quite uneventful. She had never really met anyone from Andre's life prior to their meeting. On their wedding, safe for his immediate family, no one else had attended on his side, and she had always wondered about that, yet she had never really inquired about it.

More and more, she realized she didn't really know her husband: specifically, his life before he ever met her. He was such a reserved man; he never really talked about himself, which was pretty obvious. André was somewhat of an enigma to her.

Every day for two weeks after the ball, André would leave early and have breakfast at the hotel restaurant, and if she was awake, she would go with him. Then, he would leave on his meetings and other appointments, and she wouldn't see him again until nighttime and that only if he got back at the hotel at a decent hour.

But she knew in her heart that he wasn't "busy" all those days. It didn't matter what business one was in; it was impossible to have meetings every single day for over twelve hours, uninterrupted.

Christmas was fast approaching, and by the looks of things they were going spend the holidays in Japan, which was something Relena had no intention of doing. So, that day she picked up the phone and rang home to Sanq, first calling Pagan, their butler, to prepare the house for her return, and then calling her mother to tell her she was coming home with or without André.

Her mother had been beyond ecstatic, crying happily as she talked, excited, of all the shopping and cooking they would be doing together. It had been three years in a row that she hadn't been home for the holidays, and her visits had become even more sporadic. She intended to talk to her husband and tell him to take a break so they could go home. How many months had it been since they last stepped foot in _their_ house? Much less visit her family. Perhaps they could even spend New Years in Spain. It had been many years since she had seen Mr. and Mrs. Aragón. She really missed the warmth and easygoing personality of Madrid.

Her mood started to lighten up as she planned all that she wanted to do for the holidays, like shopping for gifts and having dinner with her family. Perhaps she'd even visit her brother, whom she hadn't seen in years. She could already picture how big her nephew would be now; after all, the last time she'd seen Milliardo was at their mother's birthday, five years ago. Matthew must be around eight years old by now. She was probably right; she could still remember Lucrezia trying to quiet down the baby when he had started to fuss at her wedding nine years ago.

She sighed as she thought of her wedding day.

_"I knew the moment I saw you- or well, the moment I almost ran you over-" He said to the delight of the crowd, "-That you were the one for me. These months I've shared with you, your family, and your friends- these months I want to turn into a lifetime. I love you; I love the way you brush your hair; I love the way you dance, your eyes. Having you accept getting married here, in my homeland, meant the world to me. But it will never compare to the feeling of having you accept my proposal. I will take care of you forever; I will love you even a lifetime after that. You brought happiness to my life, Relena. You **are** the happiness in my life. I love you."_

She brushed a stray tear away. She had been a mess that day. She could remember seeing her parents together, her dad holding her mother as she cried silently with happiness. It had been such a perfect day, she often wondered if it had really happened. Her life, now, was nothing but a faint shadow of what it used to be before she got married.

Casting her gloomy thoughts aside, she called the pilot to tell him they were flying back home, to give him time to refuel the tanks and run the jet through a pre-flight check up.

She wondered that if André refused to leave with her, would he let her take the plane, or would he make her stay with him in Japan? Not knowing if he would let her go, she called an airline and booked a flight to SQX 1 just in case. She was determined to reach Sanq before Christmas, with or without him.

She looked at her wristwatch and saw it was only 8:30 am, and as she got up, ready to walk downstairs to the restaurant, she suddenly felt a bout of sickness hit her. She clamped a hand over her mouth as she rushed to the toilet. Because she hadn't eaten anything the night before and she still had to take her breakfast, she ended throwing up only bile. Standing up after she was done, she went to the sink to wash out the nauseating sting of it from her mouth.

Maybe she had gotten up too swiftly, or maybe it was because she hadn't eaten anything in over 16 hours… Yet the nagging thought that perhaps, in all the excitement of their visit to Japan, she had overlooked the very important fact that she had missed her period. She tried remembering when had been the last time she had menstruated, and as she thought of the night of her birthday, she prayed to God that if indeed she was pregnant, she had not conceived her baby then.

As the thought crossed her mind, she rushed to her purse to get her day planner.

* * *

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To be continued..._

Reviews...?


	4. Chapter Three

**Twisted Karma  
**By Andrea Sinisterra  
Angst/Tragedy/Romance  
Rated R  
_Standard Disclaimers Apply_

**Author's Note: **Well, I'm back! I'm sorry I took so long, I have a bunch of excuses, but I will spare you all. I've been working on a new fic that I will be posting soon enough. It's my first non-cannon story, so I really hope everyone will like it. …Hey, I need to promote my work! Don't sue me!

**Warnings:** This chapter is pretty much harmless. Just some reference to some violence, a.k.a., rape. Also, not proofread.

**

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**Part 3**

It had only been a month and a few days since her birthday, yet here she was, sitting alone on a hotel's bathroom floor, almost two weeks late and with such a broken heart she was surprised she was still alive. How cruel to have conceived on such an awful night, under such depressing circumstances. And no one would ever know but her. It just wasn't something one could easily forget.

A child. She unconsciously rubbed her stomach, a faint smile touching her lips.

She wondered what had happened. She was on the pill; she wasn't supposed to get pregnant. She wanted to cry harder; it was so ironic. She had always wanted to have kids; to fulfill that dream of having a house full of children; children with whom she could cry and laugh with, who would call her 'mommy' and would love her unconditionally and without reserves. So ironic that she was now pregnant as a result of a…

She rushed to the toilet again, retching so horrendously her throat was starting to feel sore.

She stood up on shaky legs, her entire bodyweight against the sink as she bent to wash her mouth and face. She had to make sure she was pregnant. It was all just suspicion based on dates and a morning sickness that could easily be a rounding virus or whatnot. She rushed to her room, throwing her suitcases on the bed to pack her clothes as fast as she could. She had to get to Sanq, she knew Margaret would help her. She needed someone who was levelheaded and aware of the real situation of her marriage… She needed someone who knew what happened that faithful day and why, because of it, she was dreading this pregnancy.

She stopped a moment to regard the thought with a sigh. Having a child now would be such a cruel, brutal reminder of what her husband was capable of; that child hadn't been conceived in love, it wasn't even conceived in passion. She didn't want her child to suffer like that; God forbid. And yet—she smiled—loving it would be so natural; she wasn't even sure she was pregnant and she couldn't keep her hands from touching her stomach. This was something she had always desired. Something she had craved with the last fiber of her being. It was such a punishment it had happened in such dreary circumstances.

She called the airline again and changed her ticket to the earliest flight leaving for Sanq, which was in three hours. She finished packing her bags, making sure to take all her toiletries and other things she usually stashed in the bathroom and vanity. A stationary pad caught her attention; she probably should leave a note to her husband. He deserved the right to know why his wife wasn't home. Home; she almost snorted at her choice of words. What home? Really!

When she reached the front desk, a bellboy with her two suitcases in tow, she asked for the manager, a sweet, chubby-cheeked, 60 year-old Swiss. The man was a bit alarmed when he saw her alone with her suitcases, knowing full well André was not in the hotel.

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Aragón?" He had a frown adorning his brows, and he unconsciously pulled at the hems of his suit's jacket.

"Oh, yes. There's nothing to be worried about. I just miss my family terribly, Mr. Slovak, and quite frankly, with all the holiday jitters going around, you can't blame me for it." She smiled sweetly, knowing the man had been somewhat protective of her. And quite frankly, who wouldn't be when she was always alone, sitting at the restaurant or out by the pool by herself? "I have a favor to ask of you, sir."

He nodded, a small smile etching his lips. "Of course."

"When my husband comes back, would you please give this to him?" She reached inside her purse and took out a neatly folded paper, handing it to Mr. Slovak with slightly shaky hands. Was she really afraid to tell André herself? She had planned on asking him first and if he refused, she would fly alone… But now, with what was going on, she wasn't too sure how he would take the news. She knew André didn't want kids, at least not now. But when? When she was old and gray and could barely walk straight? "I'm so sorry I have to put you in this situation—"

Mr. Slovak put a hand up to stop her, shaking his head and smiling at the same time. "Say no more." He extended his hand, taking the piece of paper from her nimble fingers. "As soon as Mr. Aragón returns, I'll give it to him."

Relena bent forward at the waist in a show of appreciation, smiling widely even if her stomach continued to jump and quiver in apprehension. "I have no words of gratitude that are enough, Mr. Slovak. Thank you."

He shook his head. "There's no need for those. I hope you have a safe trip, Mrs. Aragón. Benjamin!" He snapped his fingers at a passing-by bellboy. "Call a driver; there's a beautiful lady who needs to be escorted to the airport immediately."

And it was just like that. She couldn't help but sigh nervously when the plane jerked forward as it angled its way to the runway, ready to take flight. She wondered how her parents would react when they saw her alone; they would immediately assume there were problems between André and her, who wouldn't?

It was a six-hour flight to Sanq, enough time for her to think of what she wanted to say; to think of ways to explain why she was alone. She needed to talk to Margaret; she needed to tell her what was going on. She couldn't take that test alone. She needed her support. In the bottom of her heart, Relena wished it were André the one there with her, in the doctor's examination room, holding her hand. She wished to see his face light up with happiness when they were told they were, indeed, expecting a child. A creation of the union of their love.

Tears clouded her vision as that picture played and replayed in her mind. But, oh, how wonderful it would be. It would be normal, except her marriage was everything but normal. When had things started to go so wrong for them? When had things shattered beyond recognition? When had André started treating her like that? Why did she let him?

The answer to that question rang through her head in evil ways, taunting and teasing her, mocking her foolishness. She let him do whatever he wanted because she was weak, because she loved him too much to lose him. She let him do the things he wanted because she was afraid of what he was capable of doing to her.

And who would believe the truth? No one would. To everyone else, André was the perfect man: hard-worker, charming, polite, humorous, successful, and handsome. He was the perfect husband. No one would believe her. They would first put her in a mental institution.

How disgusting she felt. How utterly powerless. How incredibly alone.

* * *

She rang the bell, fidgeting slightly and her hands sweating despite the cold weather. She had decided to go to her parent's, instead of her own house. She didn't really feel like being alone. She needed some time with her family, to catch up with everything. She was worried of what her mother's reaction would be. Relena was afraid her mother would reprimand her for leaving without telling André. She dearly hoped she'd understand her motives. She was starting to regret coming so unexpectedly, but when she turned around, the taxi was gone. The sound of the cab grew more and more distant, and she realized there was nowhere else to go. She was tempted to walk to the nearest hotel, but thought better of it; she was sick of staying in hotels. That, and the sound of the lock unhooking as the door opened to reveal her mother's beautiful features made her change her mind.

She hadn't intended to cry, in fact, she had convinced herself that crying would solve nothing… But the sight of her mother's familiar face, the smile that formed tender creased along her mouth and eyes, the sight of her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, did her in. She sniffed before she threw her hands around her mother, crying uncontrollably as her body shook with suppressed sobs.

"Oh, Relena." Her mother sniffed, hugging her daughter tightly, rubbing her back in tender circles. "It's so good to see you, my darling. Come on in, it's freezing outside."

There's just something so utterly beautiful in the scent and feel of one's house. Especially when you no longer lived there. Relena's eyes watered again at the sight of the living room; it was just as she remembered it. Everything was just as she remembered it when she was younger.

Amelia Peacecraft sniffed lightly, drying the tears from her face with a hand. "Let's get these suitcases up to your room. Margaret is upstairs, I'm sure you girls have some catching up to do."

Relena turned around and hugged her mother again; kissing her cheek and smiling as they bent to each take a suitcase and carry them upstairs to her room. It was still as she had left it, and the frilly decorating, all the blue and green was so welcoming she never again wanted to step foot outside her house.

"I'll go tell Margie you're here. She'll be thrilled."

She nodded absently, still looking around. She felt like a stranger; it had been so long since she had stayed at home. She was suddenly bombarded with memories, all the time she spent here, laughing and playing. She had been so carefree and happy. Now all that seemed to linger around her was sadness and pain.

The moment Margaret opened the door, standing there still as if in shock, both of them burst in tears as they ran to embrace each other tightly. They laughed and cried as they continued to hug, running their hands through the other's hair in tenderness.

"I can't believe you're really here. I thought you were coming next week!" Margaret whispered tearfully against her older sister's shoulder. She pulled back to wipe her cheeks with her hands, smiling softly as they made their way to the bed.

They each reached for a pillow, hugging it to their chests.

"How are you?" Relena asked, suddenly craving to fill the sudden silence. Her sister sat there, staring at her with a confused, pained look that made Relena feel uncomfortable.

"Cut the crap." Margaret snapped harshly, angry and hurt. "We know why you're here, Rellie."

Relena sighed heavily, suddenly feeling exhausted and boneless. "Marsh, I really don't want to—"

"Bullshit, Relena! When are you going to open your eyes! How much longer will you let him treat you like this? Until he kills you? Why do you let him do this to you? I just… don't understand!" Margaret's last words were uttered in a broken whisper.

"I don't know." Relena's voice why soft and Margaret's eyes filled with renewed tears at the lost look in her sister's eyes. "I don't know why I still love him… I want to believe the man I fell in love with is still there… Margaret, he used to be so good to me; I don't know what's happened. I want him back so bad… I don't know why he treats me this way…"

Margaret shook her head. "Relena… I don't think he ever loved you. I mean really, really loved you. Everything happened so fast! Your meeting, the wedding, and then you left…"

Relena sighed heavily, lying down on the bed as she stared at the ceiling. How many times had she wondered that? She knew Margaret's words were the truth… But what could she do if she was still in love with him? "I'm such a masochist, Marsh. I know we married too soon… But I loved him so much… I still do… I'm afraid of him… How can one be afraid of her own husband?"

"You should… file for divorce. It's the best thing to do. You can't let him continue doing this to you. It's self-destructive, Relena, you have to understand you're only hurting yourself."

"I know…" She took a deep breath. "I can't."

Margaret frowned. "Can't what?"

"I can't divorce him now… I'm… I think I may be pregnant."

Margaret dragged a hand over her face, shaking her head softly. Tears started rolling down her cheeks, unbidden. "Oh, hon… Are you sure? I mean, have you taken a test?"

Relena shook her head, her tears rolling down her temples, swallowed by the mattress under her head. "No, I haven't. But you don't understand, Marsh… Do you know how long I've wanted to have a baby? I'm so thrilled by this… but at the same time, I'm so afraid."

Margaret moved behind her sister, cradling her head in her lap. She threaded her fingers through her sister's hair, running them through its length in a haunting pace. "Does he know?"

Relena sighed again. "No… I found out this morning. I had to take a plane back, I just couldn't stay there. How can I be afraid to tell my own husband I'm expecting his child?" She cried out, breaking down again as she sobbed and hid her face behind her hands.

"Let's do something; rest now. Tomorrow morning we're going to get an appointment with Dr. Andrews. We need to know for sure if you are pregnant or not. Right now, it's just speculation. And if you are, then we'll find a way. Relena," Margaret pushed her sister up so she was sitting in front of her. "You can't go back with him. You understand that, don't you? You need to tell mom what's going on."

Relena was shaking her head even before her sister had finished talking. "I can't… Mom would never understand. She doesn't even believe in divorce! She'll say it's my entire fault! And… André needs to know… He needs to know I'm expecting his child. I could never do that to him."

Margaret shook her head, completely phased by her sister's devotion towards that asshole of a husband. "I… how can you…Never mind. Get some rest. I'll go call and make that appointment."

* * *

She and Margaret made their way to a café a couple of minutes away from the clinic. She had gone early that morning to get the blood test done; Relena was anxious and feeling biased, feeling happiness seep through her skin at the prospect of being pregnant, yet at the same time, feeling burdened by the circumstances and possible consequences her condition might present.

She was a livid bundle of nerves when they finally claimed an empty booth by the window, a waitress coming over with a wide smile and a pad in her hands. They ordered Caesar salads with diet coke and a glass of water for Relena.

"Rellie, relax." Margaret reached across the table to take a hold of her sister's hands, squeezing them reassuringly.

"I'm sorry… It's just that I'm so confused. I want this child with the very last fiber of my being, yet I can't help but feel guilty and… I don't know what I'm saying."

Margaret frowned. "Why do—"

"If I'm pregnant, it's very possible I conceived the night of my birthday."

Margaret looked lost for a second, a small frown creasing her brows, before her hand jerked up to cover her mouth in disbelieve. "Jesus…"

Relena's mouth thinned at the memory of that night, the very first time André had ever forced himself on her. "I just don't understand how it could've happened… I'm on the pill, Marsh."

"Well, you know how it is; it'sninety-ninepercent safe."

Relena couldn't help but snort at her words. "And just my luck to be in that measlyone percent"

Margaret shrugged. "Hey, it's still a blessing."

Relena smiled softly. "I know. I can't believe it…"

"Just don't get your hopes so high up; we still don't know for sure." Margaret leaned back on the booth, a smile on her lips. "I'm going to be an aunt…"

Relena couldn't help but laugh at her sister's surprised voice. "An aunt? I'm going to be a mother…"

* * *

Two weeks later and a month and a half pregnant, Relena found herself dodging garment bags and pushing her way through the thick mass of people in the mall. She wanted to get her shopping done before it was too late and the streets would be even more crowded. That and her deep desire to avoid the phone. André had called, angry as ever, demanding an explanation to the 'miserable letter' she had left him at the hotel. At one point he had gotten so angry, Relena had broken down in tears, forcing Amelia to intervene and protect her daughter.

Amelia had been beyond shocked after Relena and Margaret had told her everything. Relena couldn't even finish the story before she started crying, and Margaret had been more than happy to relate to their mother what André had done to Relena. Amelia, to Relena's surprise, had suggested she get a divorce, and that she was not to worry since she was more than welcome to stay home. They had even called Pagan to come, since Relena wasn't going to spend the holidays at her house and neither was André.

But still, even after all that had happened, and with her mother's support, Relena felt attached to André, and even more so since she was pregnant with his child. She had the shimmering hope inside her heart that he would change his attitude when he learned he was going to be a parent, since she reasoned who wouldn't… It was human nature to feel protective of one's own family. And who could blame her, she had only lived 9 years with him, right?

And then she'd realized she was making up excuses. She knew, in the deepest recesses of her heart, that André would not change—would never change. He still didn't know she was pregnant, Relena hadn't wanted to tell him over the phone; it just wasn't right.

She rubbed her still flat stomach, trying to soothe the sudden stretching feeling she felt inside. She frowned as it turned more painful, and she reached out to support her weight against a windowpane, breathing deeply as she tried to calm herself. When the pain succeeded, she continued walking, making her way through the people to the food court. The tip of her shoulder throbbed annoyingly, and the pain in abdomen came back with double force as she collapsed on a chair, clutching her stomach with one hand and her shoulder with the other. She was starting to feel weak, and her skin broke out in a cold sweat, leaving her clammy and pale…

"Relena?"

She felt someone touch her shoulder, the voice filled with deep concern as the person sat beside her. She looked up and the face was very familiar, even through the haze and dizziness she was in. "Mr. Yuy?" Her voice came out papery; she gasped when another cramp surged through her, crying out as she wobbled on her seat and Heero's arms reached out to steady her.

"What's wrong? You're pale." He reached to touch her forehead, but her skin was cold. Her eyes had turned glassy and she looked almost delirious. "Are you here alone? Where's André?"

Relena shook her head as she took in deep breaths. "I'm alone. Can you help me stand up?"

Heero stood up and reached down to take her arm. As soon she rose on her feet, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she collapsed in a dead faint, her entire body weight resting heavily on him. He scrambled to keep her from hitting the ground, hefting her up in his arms, calling her name loudly to wake her up. People started gathering around them, whispering as they tried to get a better look at what was going on.

"Someone, call an ambulance!" Heero yelled at no one in particular, scared as blood stained her khakis and touched his clothes. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, even as he tried to shake her to get her to open her eyes.

_

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_

_To be continued…_


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